


Insider Insight

by speccygeekgrrl



Series: even the mistakes aren't really mistakes at all [12]
Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Dr. F/Frank feels too, F/M, Slow Burn, hopeless romantic gains hope, oh look more serious conversations about feelings, so much history, to be fair it takes Kinga some time to process that she has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: The rumors will fly one way or another. The question is whether they'll be true-- whether Kinga wants them to be true or not. Max is fine with letting her lead, as he always has been. That she wants to know what he wants is new and intriguing.





	Insider Insight

**Author's Note:**

> I'm such a completely unrepentant sap. More of the History between these two-- and a little of the History of their predecessors, for good measure.

Max woke up alone and felt his heart sink as soon as he realized it. She was gone, of course. Why would she stay? Or had the whole thing actually been a dream? No, his pillow still held a hint of the scent of her hair. She'd been there and she wasn't any more. He sighed and turned his face into the pillow.

"You weren't kidding about snoring," Kinga said, and his head popped up. She had turned the corner into the doorway, a coffee mug in each hand and a look of amusement on her face. "You snore way more in bed than you do on the couch."

"Sorry," he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I did warn you." She _wasn't_ gone. She was there and she was smiling at him.

"Not a big deal. One of my school roommates snored even louder than you do." She handed him one of the mugs, light and sweet the way he liked it, and sat next to him on the bed, one foot tucked underneath her. He made a valiant attempt not to blatantly ogle her and failed completely. She hid a smirk behind her mug when his gaze dropped to her thighs. "I'm thinking about playing hooky today."

"Yeah? What happened to the famous Forrester work ethic?" He arched his brows at her and she shrugged.

"It's clashing with the famous Forrester rumor mill. I'm a little worried that what happened last night is going to outshine the stories about our dads."

"Wouldn't the best thing be to stop the rumors, then?"

"I'm not sure what the content of the rumors is going to be yet," she said. "Is it going to focus on the violence? Or the reason for the violence?"

"You mean, is the rumor going to be about _you_ , or about _us_?" She nodded, and he looked down into his coffee mug for a moment, then back up at her. "Which would you prefer?"

"It's bad form to get involved with your lab assistant," she said.

"Doesn't stop people from doing it all the time," he said. "Anyways, I think it's bad form for grad students to get involved with undergrads. I'm not an undergrad."

"True." 

"Even if the rumors are about _us_... would that be so bad?" He chewed on his lip while she thought about it and then met his eyes.

"Depends on whether what they say is true or not," she said softly. 

"What do you _want_ them to say about us?" His heart felt like it was in his throat, pounding hard, difficult to talk through. 

"I don't know..." She shook her head. "I don't even know what's true right now, Max. We're kind of flying blind at the moment." She put her empty mug on the bedside table and turned to face him fully, looking as hesitant as he'd ever seen her. "What do you think is true?"

 _Dangerous_ , he thought. _Be careful._ He was used to being careful with what he said to her already. "I know I love you," he said. He'd already admitted that, but it was still difficult to say without fear. The way she smiled at him when he said it made him feel better about getting the words out. "I know I'd follow you anywhere. I know that I matter enough to you for you to fight someone for me." She opened her mouth, then bit her lip without saying anything. "I know that whatever happens next is up to you. I know what I want, Kinga, I just don't know what you want."

"You know more than I know," she said. "Because I _don't_ know what I want."

"Give me something to go on," he pleaded. "Anything. Tell me something true. Please." 

"You're the only person I trust," she said, very, very quietly, reaching for his hand. "But I trust you completely." His eyes widened and he hoped against hope that she couldn't feel that hand trembling under hers. "That's as far as I've gotten."

"That's farther than I knew a minute ago," he said. "Thank you." Trust and love weren't exactly the same thing, but they were close. He didn't expect her to love him the way he loved her, but he hadn't realized how deep her trust ran. 

"What do you want? You said you know." 

"I want whatever you're willing to let me have," he said promptly, turning his hand under hers to hold her back. "However close you want me to get. The same thing I've always wanted, really. I just want to be near you." She looked startled.

"I didn't know..."

"I didn't want you to know. I thought you'd be happier not knowing, honestly. I figured you would trust me less if you thought I had ulterior motives."

"Do you?"

"Have ulterior motives?" She nodded. "My ulterior motive is to make you happy. Not to make myself happy."

"You are a very, very strange person, Max." 

"I have to be to keep up with you," he said with a grin. "You deserve no less."

"I'm not sure I deserve this much," she said, but she shifted closer to him, leaning against his shoulder-- and reminding him that he was still only half-clothed, as was she. It was the same state they'd gone to bed in, but he hadn't felt self-conscious with her half sprawled on him when they were both under the sheet. Now, though, with her hand curling around his bicep and her head on his shoulder, he felt... nervous in a way he didn't usually with her.

"You deserve everything you want. Anything I can give you." 

"I can think of something you can give me right now," she said, leaning in. His breath caught, expecting her to close the distance between them, but instead of going in for the kiss she murmured, "Pancakes."

"Pancakes," he echoed, and she nodded happily. Well, if she wasn't going to, he would... just a brief kiss, but he thought he deserved it. She seemed to agree from the hand she put on his cheek to keep him in place for a moment longer. "I can definitely do pancakes."

"You make them so good and you always have the best kind of syrup."

"If it isn't real maple, then what's the point?"

"That's a true sign of your virtue. Everyone else has that fake butter flavored stuff. You've never stooped to that level."

"I was raised right," he said dryly. "Somehow."

"More than I was," she sighed, and he hugged her tighter. 

"What happened to you wasn't your fault. And you didn't turn out that bad, all things considered."

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You probably would have been unsalvageable if Pearl had actually kept you with her, honestly. Being sent away kept you from turning into her."

"...that's probably true," she said thoughtfully. Then she shuddered. "As bad as boarding school could be... being stuck with Grandma would have been worse."

"See? Look on the bright side. Even if she did leave a mark on you, you turned into your own person and not just a younger version of her." He smiled a little lopsidedly. "Not that I wouldn't still love you. But you'd be harder to love."

"She doesn't know how to love," Kinga said scornfully. "She's too obsessed with herself. Not that I really know how to do it either..." She trailed off, biting her lip when she realized what she'd said. 

"I didn't think I did either," he said. "And then you showed back up again and it just... happened. Even though I tried not to let it." He shrugged and smiled at her. "I thought you'd be furious if you found out."

"Why?"

"Because you're you... and I'm me... You're out of my league."

"I'm legacy and you thought you were playing command," she said, and his jaw dropped.

"Did you just--?"

"I do pay attention when you go off on your tangents, nerd."

"No you don't. You have no idea what I'm talking about most of the time."

"If you thought I was paying attention, you'd go on even more about them. I don't want to encourage you too much."

"Yeah, that sounds like you," he said, and gave her a gentle nudge. "You want pancakes or you want to reveal some other thing you've been pretending to ignore?"

"I'll take the pancakes," she said. "Can't let you know too much or you'll think you know everything."

"Oh, just about the _only_ thing I know is that I don't know everything," he said seriously. "But I also know how you like your pancakes. And I'm pretty sure I have blueberries in the fridge."

"Cheater."

"It's not cheating to know you that well." 

"It totally is."

"How is that cheating? If anything, it's the ultimate anti-cheat. Cheating is a shortcut. I didn't take any shortcuts getting to know you." She froze for a second, then laughed.

"No, you didn't. You were there almost every step of the way."

"See? Hard-earned knowledge isn't cheating. Just accept the fact that I know you better than anyone."

"Oh, I accept it," she said, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I think I might be reveling in it, actually." He couldn't help beaming, and she grinned back at him and stood up, collecting their empty coffee cups on her way out of the room. As soon as she was out of sight he pinched himself hard, but no, he was definitely awake now. He got up and pulled on a shirt and went to make breakfast for her.

She watched him make the pancakes like she'd never seen him do it before, chin propped on both her hands and gaze steady on him. He could feel her watching him like warmth on the back of his neck, but it was familiar, almost comforting to have her gaze follow him around. In short order he set a stack of blueberry pancakes in front of her; she'd already retrieved the maple syrup from the fridge and wasted no time thoroughly dousing the pile. He watched her take the first bite and grinned when her eyes shut in pleasure and she made a sound of pure enjoyment.

"It's ridiculous how good you make these," she said, and didn't say anything else until she'd demolished her plate, which didn't take long at all. By the time he came back to the table with his own plate she was licking syrup off her fingers and the corner of her lips. He couldn't help indulging the very same impulse that had gotten him into all this trouble to begin with, bending to kiss her and lick the sticky sweetness from her lips. 

"What do you want to do with the rest of the day?" he asked as he dug into his pancakes, and she hummed, looking at him thoughtfully.

"I don't know. What do people usually do when they play hooky? I haven't done it much."

"Binge watch Netflix, I think," he said, and she shook her head.

"Too passive."

"We could go out and find something to do?"

"I kind of just want to stay here with you though," she said, to his surprise and pleasure. 

"Well, I did have something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?"

"In the living room, the kitchen is too messy." She refilled her coffee as he cleared the table and went out to sit on the couch, and he went to pull something off the bookshelf by the hallway. 

"Look what I found while I was looking for the old experiment tapes," Max said, dropping a leather binder on the coffee table in front of her. "This was in a box of my dad's stuff." She pulled it onto her lap and opened it to a random page, then immediately slammed it shut. 

"Oh my god. Burn it."

"Are you kidding? No way. This is comedy gold." He sat next to her and pulled it over, flipping it open to a different page. The pictures showed a preteen Max with a ridiculous mop of brown curls playing with a toddler Kinga in wispy pigtails. "Come on, look how cute we were." He pointed at a dinosaur toy in tiny Kinga's hand. "Do you remember Chompy?"

"We have better things to do than reminisce about our childhoods," Kinga said, trying to close the photo album again, foiled when Max pushed her hand away and turned a few pages. "Ugh, please don't..." 

"Oh, come on, this one isn't even embarrassing for you." Max wasn't as squeamish as she was about past embarrassment... or current embarrassment, for that matter. He tapped a picture of himself with his hair pulled into a dozen little pigtails and a kindergarten-aged Kinga happily putting another one in. "How many times did you make me sit still to play hairdresser?"

"It doesn't matter." She scowled as he continued to flip pages, but her frown softened when he paused on a picture of the two of them on a couch, Max facedown with his head on his crossed arms, Kinga sprawled on top of him drooling in her sleep. "Oh, gross," she said, but her voice was almost gentle. 

"I remember that," he said. "I woke up with my shoulder all wet because you were a gross little cootie infested girl."

"Shut up!"

"You've outgrown it," he said cheerfully, leaning against her briefly and nudging her with his elbow. "At least, you don't drool any more."

"You were comfortable to sleep on top of," she said, and he bit his lip hard against the flirtatious comeback he wanted to say, still not sure that he had the right to say things like that. His expression betrayed him, though. Her gaze flicked down to his mouth and then she looked back down at the album, shaking her head slightly. "We're not kids any more."

"No, we really aren't." He set the open photo album on the coffee table. "You're still my favorite person, though. You were then and you still are now."

"Of course I am," she said. "That just proves you have good taste."

"I think it proves that I'm completely insane, but sure, let's go with that."

"What's the difference?"

"You're definitely your father's daughter," he laughed, and her lips twitched into not quite a smile. "Considering madness an asset."

"Oh, who wants to be sane? Common? Boring? No thanks. Anyways, you're just as much your father's son."

"You don't need to tell me that," he said dryly. "I'm acutely aware. I'd have to be blind and completely ignorant of myself to not know it."

"Maybe we can fix their mistakes this time around," Kinga said softly, leaning forward and flipping pages until she found what she was looking for: a picture of them at a barbecue not long before everything fell apart, Dr. F and Frank sitting together at a picnic table, caught mid-laugh, the kids in the foreground, although kids was a loose term since Max was already 20 by then, both with super melty ice cream cones. "Or at least not make the same ones."

"I'm already making the same mistakes my dad did, with different results."

"Oh?"

"You haven't killed me yet."

"I told you I'm not homicidal," she said with a snort. "And I wouldn't know how to un-kill you."

"Let's keep it that way."

"Dad was always terrible at expressing affection. But he wouldn't have brought your dad back so many times if he hadn't meant a lot to him."

"I know," Max said, looking wistfully at the photo. "It was... so ridiculously obvious that my dad was in love with yours, just from the way he looked at him. I didn't get it until I realized that. Why he'd stick around for that kind of abuse. I think your dad cared about him too, he just couldn't say it. But I guess when you're too fucked up to just tell someone you care about them, it comes out in weird ways." Kinga went pale and inhaled sharply. He turned a questioning glance on her.

"I don't..." She stared at him for a second, then reached out to wrap her hand around his wrist. "I don't want it to come out like that," she said softly. 

"You could just tell me," he suggested, and her cheeks went from pale to pink in an instant. "You know. With words. Or non-painful actions." She chewed on her lip, and he fought the urge to kiss her, to let her get away with not telling him. It would be a kindness. She'd had less than a day to face her feelings. It would be unfair of him to push her into saying anything. But god, he wanted to hear it, needed to see what words she'd choose. He could tell so much from whether she was careful or brash. 

"Max..." Her nails pricked the inside of his wrist. The slight pain grounded him in his body-- right here, next to her on the couch, shoulders pressed together, her foot hooked around his ankle-- when had that happened? "I can't tell you what I feel."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know the word for it. I can't tie it up neatly like that. I don't care about you-- I don't _just_ care about you," she amended immediately. "It's more like... I can't imagine who I would be without you."

"You know who you were without me," he said, feeling like his heart was trying to kick its way through his ribs. "You were without me for six years."

"Yeah, and the first thing I did after I got set free from that gilded cage I was in was find you." 

"That can't be true." 

"It took me longer than I wanted to figure out where you lived. But... I'm serious. I wouldn't be the person I am now if you hadn't been in my life. Growing up with you, the way you took care of me... of course I trust you. How could I not? You're the only person who hasn't left me or deliberately abandoned me."

"Pearl wouldn't tell me where she sent you," he said. "She said you weren't my concern any more. As if that was for her to decide."

"That doesn't surprise me," she sighed. "She dumped me in that school and then went jetting around the galaxy ruining other people's lives."

"I'm glad you found me again."

"I needed you," she said simply. "I still need you. I don't think I'll ever not need you." Max felt dizzy from how fast his heart was racing. He leaned against her and she leaned just as hard into him. "You're so necessary and I just... thought you knew."

"I didn't," he managed to say, and she released her death grip on his wrist to lace her fingers through his instead, heedless of how sweaty his hand was. 

"I thought it was... familial. Because of how closely we grew up. But now and then I'd have... really non-familial thoughts about you. I always wrote them off as me being drunk and making stupid decisions. But yesterday... I was so fucking furious when she put her hands on you."

"Only you get to touch me like that," he said, echoing her words, and she managed a lopsided smile.

"I haven't, though."

"Do you want to?"

"Do you want me to?"

"That's not the important question," he said, and she shook her head.

"It is the important question. I don't know what you want me to do, Max. I don't know what I want to do-- I don't know what I could do. Give me a clue about what you want."

"You," he said. "I just want you. Whatever you want that to mean. If you want to touch me like that, I'd be happy. I didn't know if you were serious about it."

"It would be pretty terrible of me to not want anyone else to do it and then not do it myself."

"It's not that terrible," he said with a shrug. "I don't feel deprived or anything. Don't do it out of a sense of guilt."

"That's not why I want to do it."

"So you _do_ want to?" She didn't answer him out loud, just stood up and pulled him to his feet with her. For a second they just looked at each other, his dark eyes full of hope, her green ones bright with nervous energy. She shut her eyes and kissed him almost desperately, sliding her arms around his waist to pull him even closer. He was sure she could feel his pounding heart where they pressed together, not knowing that hers was racing just as fast. Slowly, she trailed her hand down his back, and he made a soft helpless sound into her mouth when it slipped lower and squeezed his butt, not a quick stolen dig of fingers like last night's assault but a gentle widespread hand kneading his flesh. She didn't let go of him but pulled back slightly.

"I want to get you to make that sound again," she purred, and-- oh god, she was looking at him like something she wanted, hunger in her gaze and her hands on his body and he couldn't find his voice for a second.

"You-- you can have whatever you want from me," he breathed, and she grinned sharp and sudden and gave him a soft nudge back from her.

"I want you in the bedroom," she said, and all he could do was all he ever did-- exactly what she wanted him to do.


End file.
